


Green Eyes and A White Cape Look Good on You, Dear

by evynessence



Category: Charmed (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M, fluff and mild flirting at the end, harry is just trying to be good, i love my idiots, jealous!charity, macy is confused and tired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 09:54:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20274019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evynessence/pseuds/evynessence
Summary: Based on a prompt by the-ship-sails-itself on Tumblr (thank you for letting me use it!):Macy and Harry get their black pajamas mixed up in the laundry room. Harry and Charity are in the kitchen earlier than usual when Macy comes down, bleary-eyed, looking for coffee in what Charity immediately recognizes as Harry's pajamas.





	Green Eyes and A White Cape Look Good on You, Dear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheShipSailsItself](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheShipSailsItself/gifts).

> This is my first posted fic and I'm super excited to share! Let me know what you think!

Harry had sworn that he had left his pajamas hanging in the laundry room, on the makeshift clothing line he’d set up when he had been living in the attic. Being made of such delicate material, he didn't want to risk putting them in the dryer, something he hoped the girls understood and wouldn't mind. Not trying to worry too much over clothes, Gods knew there were much bigger problems at hand, he had opted to wear a t-shirt to bed instead. 

With everything going on with Macy, he had decided that moving back in was for the best, despite Charity’s many protests. She wanted to argue that getting too close to his charges would result in complications of his duties, but he only laughed at that defense. 

“I believe I have stepped over that line already.” He gave her a level look, and she hadn’t been able to argue against that point. 

He knew of her jealous tendencies, though there hadn’t been many instances she could act on them over the years. He recalled a few times that she would attempt to outshine her sister in training exercises, always making sure he was watching when she did so. It put them in danger, forcing him to end the simulation early; looking back he was surprised they had made it to fully-fledged witches. 

Walking down to the kitchen that morning had been strange for him. Charity was already standing by the stove, to-go coffee cup in hand, a lipstick stain marking the rim of the top. She seemed out of place among the mahogany cabinets and the chaotic jumble of appliances, the only lasting evidence of the dinner Maggie had whipped up last night. The oddities in the kitchen so very much screamed the personalities of the house’s occupants. There were herbs lying on the island without clear labels as to what they were, but he just knew that the girls- at the very least Macy- could tell one from another; the decorations from their celebration of Maggie not getting kicked out of school were still hanging. Charity, in all of her regal and rigid put-togetherness, seemed to stick out like a sore thumb amongst the loud character of the kitchen. 

“I let myself in, I hope you don't mind.” 

He shook his head no, despite a voice in the back of his head that begged him to say he did. 

He shouldn’t have felt some type of way about an Elder, leader of the magical world- and his direct boss- letting herself in where she pleased, but it irked him a little. Silently, he tutted himself; it was like refusing the Queen a bed in your home, you simply didn’t do it. On top of that, he tried to not let it bother him that she was standing where Macy typically stood, in front of the coffee pot, as he served her sisters' breakfast and she poured herself coffee. She’d always watch him cook and wait for him to bring the last of the food to the table before she sat. 

Growing so accustomed to no one being in the kitchen when he arrived there every morning, he tried to act natural as he pulled pans from the cabinets and food from the fridge. He felt her eyes on him the whole time he moved around the kitchen, muscle memory pulling him into the morning’s rhythm. 

“So this is a normal thing, huh?” 

Harry tried to pay no mind to her tone, it wasn’t supposed to bother him that she was mildly jealous of his friendship with his charges, he knew this wasn’t seen as appropriate, but he couldn’t help but feel a spark of agitation in his chest at her words. 

He sighed, exhaling the negativity that began swirling in his mind. “If I leave them to cook breakfast themselves, they’ll surely die of food poisoning.” He paused, reaching to grab the salt. “Maggie is the only one who can cook without burning the house down, and trust me, she isn’t exactly a morning person.” 

Charity raised an eyebrow at his words, lips pursed and arms crossed. Her face was blank, but he was well aware of the feelings swirling below the surface. The girls were his friends, more than friends actually, they were family, something he had never had before, especially not with the Callahan sisters. He knew that bothered Charity to no end. She liked to be in control, have all of his attention and be able to fulfill any needs he could possibly have. 

“Come to think of it, none of them are morning people.” He thought about his next words carefully, knowing full well that she would not like him mentioning the house’s other occupants. “Well except Macy, but only after coffee.” 

At the mention of the eldest charge, Charity marched to the trash can, her heels clicking on the ground. She yanked open the top and threw her coffee cup away with more force than necessary. It was his turn to raise his eyebrows at her. 

“I’m sorry. They’re your charges, of course, you have a special relationship with them.” He sensed a long-winded monologue coming and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her berating tone. “You protect them, spend time with them, cook them breakfast...,” the last part sounded more like an accusation.

Her voice trailed off which caused him to look up. She was blinking rapidly as if she couldn’t believe what was in front of her. He followed her line of sight, his eyes falling on his oldest charge, puffy-eyed, half-awake, and clad in...his pajamas? 

One glance at Charity and he knew there was no convincing her those were Macy’s. She had seen him in them before. The brief flash of anger and jealousy that crossed her face as the reality dawned on her was enough to make Harry want to orb out of Hilltown all together. She sounded as if she wanted to strangle him when she spoke.

“...And share pajamas?”  
_______________ ___________________ ___________________ ________________

Macy had awoken that morning to the delicious smell of food wafting up the stairs, and not-so-quiet voices talking downstairs. Typically she got dressed before she presented herself to her family, but today was her day off, and she’d be damned if she had to get dressed before noon. 

The moment she entered the kitchen, she noticed that Charity Callahan was standing in front of her fridge, arms crossed and mid-sentence. In her all white excellence, the Elder looked like snowfall in Florida, wildly out of place.

Even through her sleep fogged brain, Macy knew she had just walked into something. For a moment she debated turning around and marching back to her room, coffee and english breakfast be damned. But then the floorboard underneath her foot creaked rather loudly, and Charity’s predator like eyes fell on her and that one looked seemed to doom her whole morning. 

A moment later, Harry’s eyes also fell on her, and suddenly she felt like she was under a microscope. A shiver ran down the back of her neck as she avoided eye contact with either of them. 

“...And share pajamas?” 

She looked between Charity and Harry, both speechlessly looking at her. Charity’s eyes were hardened, boring holes in the side of her head. Harry looked like he would rather be anywhere else.

Macy tilted her head in confusion at Charity’s words, was her coming down in her pajamas really that weird? She shook her head moving towards the coffee pot. Nothing in her brain made sense before coffee and she was desperate for some clarity about what was happening in her kitchen.

Her hands moved on autopilot around the coffee maker, paying the kitchen’s other occupants no mind. She could feel Charity’s eyes still on her and Harry kept throwing them both glances from the stove as if he was afraid they would catch fire if he wasn’t careful. 

“Macy,” Her voice was sickly sweet as she drew her name out. “I was just telling Harry how sweet it is that he’s cooking breakfast for you girls.” 

She doubted that was actually true, but Harry was smart enough not to correct her. “Hm.” She hummed as she poured herself a cup of coffee and breathed in the pleasant aroma. “Meghan Markle is a good one.” 

Charity looked as if she had just been slapped in the face; blinking rapidly and shaking her head to regain composure. Harry made a coughing sound from the stove and shot Macy a glare. She knew he hated that name, though the sisters still threw it around now and again just to bug him. In her opinion, his flustered attempts to refute the nickname were quite cute to watch.

“I’m sorry, who?” 

Macy looked at the Elder. She seemed a lot less intimidating when Macy was too tired to care that she could probably kill everyone in the house with a flick of her wrist. “Meghan Markle? British royalty?” Before she could stop herself, she added, “I know magical folk can be removed from the real world, but she’s kind of a big one.” 

Macy could see the strained look on Charity’s face as she continued to talk. The fake smile she had plastered on had begun to droop at the edges as her restraint began to wear thin. She took another sip of her coffee to hide the hints of a smile on her lips. “Harry hates it, but we love it and he’s the closest thing to British royalty we got.” 

“He’s a British Whitelighter, the two aren’t even close!”

Harry scoffed in mock offense. Macy pursed her lips taking another sip of her coffee. “I think he’d look good in a crown.” She looked at him, her head tilting to the side as she conjured the image in her mind

“Thank you, Macy.” He threw her a smile over his shoulder, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

She nodded absentmindedly, with or without a crown he was cute, she thought taking another sip of coffee. Sleep lowered her inhibitions the same way alcohol did for most people, which resulted in her saying and doing things that she could typically restrain from. Coffee was a must before she ever held a conversation, a rule which was typically easy to uphold in a house where no one but Harry was up before her. 

“I like your pajamas, Macy, where’d you get them.” Charity piped up, breaking into her thoughts. There was a level of venom intertwined in her words, and at that moment she was glad there was an island between the two of them.

Looking down at the garments, she pulled at them, studying them with sleepy eyes. The shirt hung loosely on her shoulders, the neckline dropping lower than she remembered; the pants had even dropped lower than her feet, something that rarely happened with her height. She had been so tired the night before when she had grabbed her clothes from the laundry room she wasn’t even sure what had been washed. When she noticed the pajamas hanging, her sleepy mind had assumed they were hers; after all, she was the only one who wore black silky pajamas in the house. Or so she thought. Charity’s intense hostility suddenly made sense as it dawned on her that she probably wasn’t wearing her own clothes. She resisted the urge to shoot Harry a look as the gears in her brain, newly awoken, began grinding for a quick-witted response.

“Uhh, my sisters got them for me actually, you’ll have to ask Maggie.” She nervously shrugged at Charity who looked like she wanted to wring her neck. “I’m sure if you want, she could get you a pair?” 

The smile dropped from her lips as if she had been slapped across the face. A chuckle rose from Harry’s direction which was quickly covered by a cough. 

Charity gritted her teeth, looking between the Whitelighter and his charge. “Well...I’ll have to ask her about that.” Her oh-so-very-fake smile returned to her lips. “I better get going, I have very important Elder business to attend to this morning. If you’ll excuse me.” She turned so quickly that her white peacoat flapped behind her like a cape, and without another word from any of them, she disappeared through a portal. 

Macy watched her go, a strange sense of victory washing over her. The entire encounter couldn’t have been more than five minutes and she didn't understand what was happening half the time, but making Charity stomp out of her kitchen like an angry child had been more satisfying than she could ever have imagined. A small giggle escaped her lips which quickly became a full-fledged laugh. 

Harry, who was now looking at her, eyes gleaming with what she could only guess was awe, broke into a wide grin. Seconds later he joined her until tears were nearly streaming down his cheeks. 

“I can not believe you just did that!” 

“I only told her that she could match me, she did the rest herself!” Macy shot back, another round of laughter swallowing up her words. 

She was awake now, and the way Harry was looking at her, with such soft yet mischievous eyes, sent shivers down her spine. When his smile reached his eyes they sparkled like the Gods had pulled stars down and personally placed them there. She ducked her head as another laugh bubbled in her throat. 

“She was so mad!” He exclaimed, bewilderment capturing him. How could a pair of pajamas make someone so upset?

“Mad? You think that was her mad?” She gave him a pointed look. “She was definitely jealous.” 

He sighed, the smile still dancing on his lips. He aimed his spatula at her and in a lame attempt to change the subject he said, “You are wearing my pajamas.” 

She glanced down at her clothes again, taking on a tone of astonishment, “Would you look at that!” 

He cocked an eyebrow at her, “I expect those back, Ms. Vaughn.” 

She tried her best ‘good luck with that’ face. “I don’t know, I think I might hold onto them for a bit longer.” 

He scoffed at her, before bursting into another fit of laughter. 

“What can I say? They’re very comfortable, Meghan Markle.” 

He shook his head at her, his eyes glinting with happiness as he turned back to the stove to make her breakfast. 

She sighed, a smile still evident on her lips as she watched him work. For that moment, she was truly and utterly content.


End file.
